


I Believe this Tassel Belongs to You

by HeroMaggie



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Anders Spicy Shimmy happens, Anders as a stripper, Garrett Hawke almost swallows his tongue, Gen, Or is it Isabela's Fault?, Silly Silly AU, Varric is really the reason all this happens, yes yes - nipple tassels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-24
Updated: 2015-04-24
Packaged: 2018-03-25 13:52:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3812968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeroMaggie/pseuds/HeroMaggie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Varric and Isabela plan a party to celebrate Hawke raising 50 gold for the expedition...</p><p>Anders works on occasion at the Blooming Rose as an exotic dancer to make money for the clinic...</p><p>Nipple tassels, Anders' Spicy Shimmy, and scarves...</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Believe this Tassel Belongs to You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StormDragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormDragon/gifts), [Ywain Penbrydd (penbrydd)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/penbrydd/gifts).



> Because Cyanopsis drew this on Tumblr: http://cyanopsis.tumblr.com/post/117255572319/goddamn-nipple-tassels-and-speedos
> 
> Because Stormdragon requested said drawing of Anders in Nipple Tassels...
> 
> Also - Penbrydd...we had a discussion about Anders, shimmying, and the use of scarves. BECAUSE OF THIS YOU GET TAGGED TOO! HAHA! I hope it makes you smile.
> 
> Did I leave any of you out? You all...should be patting yourselves on the back.

“Come on, Hawke, it’s one night. One night of celebration. And you deserve it. You just made the last bit of gold needed for the expedition and we’ve convinced my asshole brother to bring you on as a partner…partner,” The shorter, blond man leaned forward and punched his friend’s arm. “Oh, that didn’t hurt…did it?”

“Delicate mage flower here, Varric,” Hawke joked, flexing his bicep and grinning at his friend. “I don’t know…doesn’t seem right. We haven’t actually done anything.”

“We raised fifty gold in two months. How’s that not doing anything? And you’ve wrangled together a better team than any merc guild in the Free Marches,” Varric leaned back in his chair, the light from the gas lanterns turning his hair into minted gold. Tapping a few fingers on the table, he narrowed his eyes at the bearded, darkly handsome man across from him. “Look, all we need to finish out the expedition is a Warden, and I’ve got my sources scouring the city for one. So we take a night to celebrate the gold made and then hit the streets. Besides, Rivaini has already done the planning. Didn’t want to leave it to chance and you say no.”

“You’ve always been a fast-talker, Varric. Fine. One night of fun. Are we bringing the whole group?” Hawke grabbed for his mug of ale and took a deep drink. “Even Merrill?”

“Aww, Daisy’ll be fine. I’m more concerned with bringing our broody, murder-elf. But Rivaini swore everybody would have fun. Even Aveline,” Varric tutted when Hawke grimaced. “Oh pish, the Guard Captain will be fine.”

“Fine, fine. Whatever. Where is Isabela throwing this shindig, anyway?” Hawke stood, stretching. “And when?”

“Tonight, just after sundown. At the Blooming Rose. She knows somebody…or something. I didn’t ask too closely.” Varric watched Hawke amble towards the door. “You going to bring Little Hawke?”

“Yeah…if it’s at the Blooming Rose it’ll be good for a laugh. See you tonight then,” Hawke gave a wave and tromped from the room.

Varric took a deep drink from his ale and grinned. Rivaini had promised to make it a party…and Varric had feeling they were in for a wild ride.

***

Peeking through the curtains, Anders eyed the small crowd filtering in to the back banquet hall. As a general rule he did not dress up in lacy smalls and silks only to take them off – but the clinic needed cash and he wasn’t able to work the upstairs rooms anymore.

It was a sad fact of life for a poor, destitute apostate on the run – if you needed money quickly, the brothel was the place to go make it. Especially if the apostate in question was physically attractive, able to heal, and had a small arsenal of personalized spells useful for more…intimate…purposes.

But Anders wasn’t JUST an apostate on the run. He was the possessor of one Spirit of Justice and that made working at the brothel a little…trickier.

Justice disapproved of the pleasures of the flesh. Sadly, fleshly pleasures included more than just actual sex. Hugging, kissing…booze…rich foods…all of it was scorned as “unnecessary” and “wasteful.” After much internal debate, it was decided that an occasional performance could be permitted as long as the money made went to fund the clinic and the mage freedom movement.

So, once or twice a month Anders would show up at the Blooming Rose to do a private performance. It was always for a small group of well-paying customers, always in the private room, and always “look, no touch.”

Anders waited for the group to settle, for the musicians to decide their instruments were tuned, and for the music to start to swell. Picking up the staccato beat of the drum, he pushed aside the crimson curtain and danced out onto the stage.

***

Hawke had to admit, a private party at the Blooming Rose hadn’t been such a bad idea after all. There were copious amounts of food, plenty of wine and ale…and that whiskey he liked so much, the companionship of his friends, and supposedly, a dancer. A glance around showed Carver stuttering nervously to a giddily-excited Merrill, Isabela lounging with one leg over the arm of her chair while trying to flirt with Fenris – who was happily drinking every bottle of red wine in the joint. Varric was deep in discussion with Aveline – probably trying to purchase the Hanged Man again.

Food, wine, companionship…no signs of blood mages or bandits or slavers….it was a good night.

The sound of the musicians starting to tune their instruments was everybody’s cue to sit down and shut up, which they did. Chairs surrounded a short stage that boasted a single pole – a pole that had been the cause of one too many knob jokes from Isabela. Deep crimson silky curtains hung across the back of the stage and Hawke watched as one twitched – probably the dancer looking to see if everybody was ready.

The musicians all took a breath and then started – a steady beat being tapped out and held by the drummer. A tambourine joined the beat and the curtains were flung open to reveal a tall, lanky man with shoulder-length loose blond hair and multi-colored silk scarves draping over his long, lean body. A murmur ran through the room starting at Isabela and ending with Hawke whispering “holy shit…”

Feet bare, belled anklets jangling with each step, the blond man shimmied his way down the stage, hips undulating to the steady drum beat. His hand slid up the pole and if Hawke hadn’t opted to wear a robe for this event there would be pants issues because Maker, those long fingers were something else. The drum gave off three solid beats and then the strings joined in…

And scarves were floating from the man on stage. He danced around the pole like it was a lover, body sliding down and then up, twisting and pressing himself against the metal, hips and arms and shoulders moving to the now-rapid beat – a rhythm picked up by Hawke’s own heartbeat, pounding in his ears and groin as another scarf floated away and more of that long, lean, pale body was exposed.

Body undulating from hips to shoulders, serpentine and hypnotic, the last of the scarves drifted down and the man was left in nothing but thin silk smalls and two small tassels covering his nipples. Eyes closed, the dancer lost himself in the rhythm as it slowed, slipping to his knees to writhe temptingly on the floor of the stage. Hawke was pretty sure he had forgotten how to breathe. A glance around the room showed Merrill slack-jawed, Carver trying his best to melt into his clothing, Isabela…possibly jerking off…and Fenris tilted forward in his chair with his eyes wide. Varric had a notepad out…of course he had a notepad out…and was taking notes while sweating and flushed. Aveline managed to look both interested and dismissive at the same time. Hawke turned his gaze back to the stage just in time to catch the dancer’s eyes and the man smiled and winked, pulled himself up to his feet gracefully, and bowed.

It was over and Hawke hadn’t even heard the music stop – he had been too entranced by the man on the stage. Another blink, and the dancer was gone –the only proof of his existence were the scarves and one tassel left on the stage floor.

Hawke was, unaccountably, upset that he hadn’t even found out the man’s name…

***

Two weeks later:

“You’re sure your sources were correct? There’s a Warden here? In Kirkwall?” Hawke was following behind Varric as they descended into Darktown. “And he’s in DARKTOWN?”

“What can I say? Wardens like to be sneaky like that. Look, according to my sources he’s running a free clinic for the poor and needy – which makes him sound like a miracle worker but again, Wardens. We’ll go in, ask nicely if he has any maps, and then leave. No harm, no foul.” Varric patted Hawke’s hand. “Whatcha got there anyway?”

“Oh? Nothing…hah. Nothing,” Hawke shoved his hand back in his pocket and flushed slightly. “Just a little memento from that wild party Isabela threw me.”

“That was some dancer,” Varric whistled. “Never thought a body could move like that.”

“Yeah Varric…let’s just…get the maps. Don’t want to be thinking about that while down here in Darktown,” Hawke fidgeted with his pocket and glanced around.

“Point taken,” was the response, Varric’s head nodding at a lit lantern. “There it is. From what I heard, a lit lantern means the healer is in. Try to be nice, ok?”

“Varric! I’m always nice!” Hawke turned around, arms wide, and grinned at his friend while walking backwards through the doors…

And into a clean room smelling of herbs, magic, and the tang of blood. A tall blond man was bent over a rickety cot, hands splayed and spilling the blue glow of healing magics into a small nearly lifeless child. The man inhaled and pressed his hands down, the light flaring brightly, and the body twitched and then relaxed. Staggering away, a slender hand came up to steady the man against a pillar while the child was gathered up by their parents.

Hawke cleared his throat and the blond man spun around, eyes wide, hand coming up…and Hawke froze. The man…the dancer from the party…those eyes and hands…Hawke swallowed back a hysterical giggle. For his part, the man let his arm drop, a flush slowly filling his cheeks.

“We’re looking for a Warden,” Varric sauntered around Hawke and stopped, blinking up at the blond man. “You’re the Warden?”

“I’m…ah. Have that distinction, yes. But if you’re here on their behalf then you should know I’m not leaving my clinic. I’m perfectly content to heal down here in the gutter and have no desire to return to the fold,” The man’s voice flowed over Hawke. “Ah…”

“You’re him…” was all Hawke could manage.

“My name is Anders,” the man responded, amusement dancing in his amber eyes.

Varric shook his head, eyes rolling slightly. “I’m Varric Tethras and this is Garrett Hawke. We’re mounting an expedition to the Deep Roads and are in need of some Warden maps.”

Hawke had started choking as the word “mounting” left Varric mouth. He struggled to pull himself under control and cleared his throat again, “Ah yes…any help you give us could…um…save lives.”

“Well…I do have maps…” Anders started.

“We’ll pay you for them,” Hawke interjected. “Whatever you want for them.” Varric covered his face with a hand and sighed.

“How about…a favor…you help me, I help you?” Anders watched Hawke nod and then gestured to the side of the room. Hawke glanced at Varric and moved to join the blond man.

“Look I…” Anders glanced at Hawke’s face and sighed. “Fine, yes, let’s just get this over with. Yes, I do dance at the Blooming Rose on occasion and yes…I remember you…”

Hawke flushed and pulled his hand out of his pocket, “I’m Garrett Hawke. Most people call me Hawke,” he swallowed slightly, “And ah, I believe this tassel belongs to you.”

Anders blinked at the silky gold tassel and then back up to Garrett’s face, “Ahh…this feels like a fairytale now. Are we, perchance, in the Fade?”

The question made Hawke grin, “No. Look, whatever you need. I’ll help with it. I, ah, just really…what I mean to say is…”

“I want to break a friend out of the Gallows,” Anders said in a rush, watching Garrett blink.

“Done. Deal. No problem.” That was not the response Anders was expecting, and Garrett saw those pretty amber eyes narrow. “I’m a mage myself. Don’t much care for the Gallows or the Chantry. We’ll get your friend out, you’ll help us with the map thing, and you’ll have dinner with me.”

“Just like that?” Anders watched Hawke hold the tassel out to him.

“Yeah,” the smile on Garrett’s face quirked higher. “Just like that. Take the tassel, give me the details and then…dinner…with me.”

Lips twitching, Anders tilted his head and slowly dragged the tassel from Hawke’s hand. “Deal. Chantry tonight, just after dark. We’ll get Karl freed and then…I’ll give you the maps and we can discuss dinner.”

Hawke leaned forward and then back, nodding and tossing Anders a cocky smile. “It’s a date, then. Come on Varric, we need to go wrangle up some help for tonight.”

“Catch ya later, Blondie,” Varric called out, grinning.

Walking towards the elevator that would take them back to Lowtown, Hawke slapped Varric on the back. “I have a feeling tonight could be my lucky night.”

Varric just shook his head, “Not a good thing to say in this town, Hawke. That’s how trouble always starts.”

“Varric, trouble started the minute you dragged me to the Hanged Man. No, I’m telling you, I just met the man I’m going to settle down with. You’ll see.” Hawke laughed at the look on Varric’s face, sauntered onto the elevator, and started whistling a jaunty tune.

**Author's Note:**

> This highly amused and unapologetic writer can be found on tumblr under Warriormaggie
> 
> I accept all silly prompts, drawings, and messages to gush over Anders in a corset...poke at your own peril.
> 
> Does Anders have piercings in this story? That's for you to decide.
> 
> Also - it's amazing what a little magical mojo can do for hiding tattoos while dancing.


End file.
